Page:Poems and ballads, third series (IA poemsballadsthir00swin).pdf/93

 Hold fast to the green world's pleasance: For I that am lord of it am All.

God, God Pan, from the glad wood's portal The breaths of thy song blow sweet: But woods may be walked in of mortal Man's thought, where never thy feet Trod.

Thine All secrets of growth and of birth are, All glories of flower and of tree, Wheresoever the wonders of earth are; The words of the spell of the sea Mine.